Mirror Magick
by Elsie Eleazar
Summary: Snape's relationship with a Lilly that only exists in the Mirror of Erised and his imagination.
1. Chapter 1

I come here everyday, this small, dank and abandoned classroom. The dust threatens to clog my lungs at times and during the late summer the humidity swamps me and lures me into heavy placation. I could sit in front of this mirror forever, talking with my imagination, living in a place where she could possibly love a vile creature like me. Erised, one of the greatest wizards of all time has granted me this reprieve, and I do owe him my life. For without these stolen hours with Mirror Lilly, I fear I would have disappeared from this bloody plane of existence long ago.

The very first time I stumbled upon it, Lilly and I got into a tiff because she wanted to stay in the library with her Gryffindor friends instead of going down to the lake to study with me. I ran off, afraid that somebody would see the tears welling in my eyes and the color emerging from beneath my robes. I ran and ran and then I found the Mirror, tucked in a dusty classroom on the fourth floor. As I pulled the thick burlap sheet off of the mirror I saw her standing behind me. Horrified I turned around, but I was still all alone. Turning back, she was there again. Even those who have grown up surrounded by magic can still be dumbfounded by it. And hers, Lilly Evans, her magic was a kind I've never experienced from anyone or anything else. It was tangible in the air, in her scent and voice, in the way her lively green eyes fixed on you. Lilly Evans was magic itself. And in the Mirror, she came up behind me, looking repentant, looking like she cared about me. She wrapped her arms around me and rested her small, pale face against my shoulder, letting her gorgeous crimson hair spill down my back as she tipped her face to mine.

"I'm sorry, Sev." she whispered, oh so delicately.

"No, Lilly, I'm sorry." I stared at my reflection, watched the way the tears slid down my face and onto the tip of my nose. I waited, watching, to see if she would be dispelled by my leaking shame. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding on to the beauty of her, the image of her smallness pressed against me in a tender embrace. But I knew this wasn't real, that it never could be real. She would never hold me like this, love me like I loved her. I collapsed onto the floor in front of the Mirror, my back facing it. On my knees, I held my sides together as I convulsed with the bitter admittance that the only love I could ever expect would come from a magicked mirror and my imagination. It burned, soured, smothered all the light inside of me, all of the drive to do anything and be anything. Anything that didn't result in having her near me, imagined or otherwise.

I wiped my face, and tidied up my robes. Then quickly, quietly made my way to the Slytherin dungeons, to relive the embrace until sleep overtook me.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm aware that it's biology, that it happens to everyone, that it isn't anything to be embarrassed of. Well, I'm aware of that now. But at the time, I wasn't, and neither were the other kids who stood there and jeered at me, mocked the manifestation of my body's maturity.

It was year two Charms class, and I was going through puberty, just like the other boys in my year. I was actually quite proud of the normalcy I was seeming to display; cracking voice, random hair growth, gangly limbs, acne on my chin and forehead and back, and even the random erections I got. Up until this point, I had only gotten them in the morning or during the evening when I could easily tuck off to my dormitory. However, this day, the window was open to invite in the spring breeze, and Lily was sitting warm and delicate next to me. A minor breeze swept in, lifting her gingery hair, making it dance softly, and blowing the sweet deliciousness of her skin my way. She smelled like vanilla and lavender, she smelled like spring itself, she was my own perfect Persephone. Just as I was being swept into my own thoughts, Sirius Black leans over his worktable to hand Lily a note from his miscreant friend, and yells, "SNIVEL'S GOT A HARD ON."

Lily snapped her beautiful emerald eyes my way, furrowing her brow, her face glowing in the light, illuminating her gorgeous freckles. The other kids laughed, and laughed. They threw out mean names, crude jokes, the worst offenders of course being the sadist Potter and his little clan. Professor Flitwick tried to maintain order, tried to subdue the class, however after nearly an hour of his driveling lecture, they all were eager for something more exciting to focus on. After realizing relief would not come, I jumped from my seat and hastened out of the classroom, down the hallway and onto the floor where I'd find my mirror. I locked the door behind me, and threw myself down in front of it, sobbing and cursing Potter's name. At last when I could breathe again, I looked up into the mirror, ready to see what cruel fantasies I knew lied within.

Of course she was there, with me. She was facing me, her chin tilted to meet my eyes, lips twitching in hidden amusement. Her arms rest around my waist and she was pressed close enough that I could make out all of her curves through her robe. Her chest, rising and falling against my own. Her knees, knobbly endearing, slid halfway between mine. I could feel the ache in Mirror Me, because I could feel the ache in myself. I had never thought of her this way, as a sexual object, as something to be desired for more than her wit, her easy laugh, her tender heart. At this moment, I knew that I wanted to share something besides my love with her, I wanted to share the manifestation of love. I wanted that forbidden intimacy that had before only be known to me through the smutty talk of the upperclassmen. Sure, I understood what it was, though I never imagined myself, engaged in such an act, with anybody. But now, here, looking at what could be (and could as in physically possible, albeit not realistically possible) I wanted it, I _wanted her._

Looking back, I'm not sure whether this revelation of desire was new, or good or bad, or inevitable. Perhaps if I never thought of her in a sexual way, the yearning, the hurt wouldn't be quite as intense. Perhaps it would have been inevitable because she was a minx, beautiful and intelligent, the perfect mate. Perhaps it was bad, because for quite a while I was ashamed of my feelings and desires, although they were probably definitely the same that James Potter held. I cannot reason why it was good. I don't suppose it was. Regardless, that day there was shift in my thoughts of Lilly. No longer could I imagine walking in the woods, swimming in the ponds, laughing and running about with her, without the scene shifting to a kiss, a tender stroke, an endless embrace. I had never felt innocent of anything, and these new desires and ruminations did help. But she, with her creamy open complexion and capacity to care for everyone, she was able to keep me close to innocent, to remind that such a thing was possible, to make me believe that not everything was a tainted mess. That maybe one day, I could be innocent somehow as well. And if I was innocent, maybe I could be loved.


End file.
